


Sub Rosa

by Miss M (missm)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/F, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missm/pseuds/Miss%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Millicent Bulstrode knows one thing: it's all about power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sub Rosa

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2008 round of hp_yule_balls on LJ. My thanks to Redsnake05 for the beta.

Millicent Bulstrode knows one thing: it's all about power.

There is power in her hands, large and strong and mannish, which were useful to beat up the Muggle boys who teased her, back home when she was a child, before she discovered magic. There is power in her spells, when she flings them mercilessly at her enemies, for practise or for real. There is even power in her brain; she may be coarse and unattractive, but she isn't stupid.

But nothing comes close to the power that enables her to make Pansy Parkinson tremble and gasp, again and again, always coming back for more.

During the daytime, it's different. They avoid each other, only sharing a glance in passing, usually accompanied by some cutting remark from Pansy, especially if she is accompanied by her friends, which she normally is.

"Hey, Bulstrode," she will say, "Don't sit in that chair, it can only take two normal people at a time." Or, "We'll be late for lunch - try not to empty the table before we get there, will you?" Or, if she's particularly inspired, "Still not a date for the weekend? You know, I'm fairy certain Hagrid's available."

The other girls giggle, out of malice, nervousness or simple relief because they themselves are in Pansy’s good graces; it's difficult to say. Millicent stopped caring a long time ago.

She throws some harsh words back, without really putting any effort into it, because she knows that come night time, Pansy will pay for all her insults, and do it gladly, moan by throaty moan.

 

*

 

Millicent can't help contemplating the fact that it all started as a joke, a cruel experiment born out of Pansy's boredom. She supposes there is some bizarre irony in that, for the joke passed into stark seriousness a long time ago, and now it's too late to go back.

 

*

 

There are many parts of Hogwarts castle which are deserted in the evening, classrooms and cupboards and dimly lit hallways. Not all of them are safe, though; the ghosts may show up at any time, and if Peeves ever found out, everything would be lost.

Millicent knows which places are safest; she has learnt how to avoid the risks as best as she can. Yet the danger is still there, however small, and some part of her revels in it, in the thrill of knowing that maybe, just _maybe_ , they will be caught this time. She pictures the horrified faces of Pansy's friends, wavering between denial and panic; she imagines the school brimming with rumours and excitement. In her mind, she sees Draco Malfoy's face, cold and sneering, as he says that he never wants to see Pansy again.

She never tells Pansy about this. In fact, Millicent doesn't tell Pansy anything at all.

 

*

 

One night, Millicent fucks her in a dark closet not far from the dungeon. They have cast all sorts of protective charms on the door, yet the thrill is there, as always, and it only gets stronger as Pansy whimpers and tilts her head back, inviting Millicent to bite down on the soft skin of her neck.

She does, but not as hard as she would have liked to; she wants to leave marks, but Pansy won’t allow her. Instead, she twists her hand, a quick snap of her wrist that makes Pansy whimper again, thrashing her back against the wall, making Millicent silently curse the darkness which prohibits her from seeing properly.

She slides another finger inside, moving her hand against Pansy's swollen flesh, all too aware of the heat throbbing between her own legs. Pansy is naked, but Millicent has kept most of her own clothes on, and she feels hot and sweaty under her robes. She needs release, but first she wants - no, she _needs_ to send Pansy over the edge, needs to have Pansy shuddering in ecstasy, before collapsing in Millicent's arms.

And so she kisses her, hard and fiercely, speeding up her movements while cupping one of Pansy's breasts in her free hand. It's as clumsy and graceless as Millicent herself, but it makes Pansy press against her even harder, bucking her hips as she comes, wildly and shamelessly, her head thrown back, a cry escaping her parted lips, leaving Millicent undone.

Later, as they get ready to leave, she suddenly notices something in the sparse light. Before Pansy can react, Millicent has grabbed her arm.

"What's this?"

Pansy is already finding back to her usual self, although her voice wavers a little as she replies, "That's not anything of your business, Bulstrode."

Millicent's stomach is cold. "It's the Dark Mark." She lets go of Pansy's arm, taking a step back. "You've got the sodding _Mark!_ "

"Tell the whole castle, will you?" Pansy hisses.

"Fuck." Millicent can do nothing but shake her head, lamely. "Fuck! You _fucking_ moron. Do you know what they will do to you if they find out? You're in for a lifetime in Azkaban, you know that?"

"It's not anything of your business, you fat cow," Pansy says. Her voice is a brittle ice, but Millicent can hear the dangerous currents underneath. "Get out of my way, I'm going to bed."

"I'd rather be a fat cow than a stupid bitch," Millicent snarls then, but Pansy is already gone.

 

*

 

Of course, she should have seen it coming. Everybody knows that Draco Malfoy has not changed sympathies simply because his father was put in Azkaban. If he hasn't got the Mark already, it's only a matter of time - and it has always been a simple matter of time when it comes to other things, as well.

She tries not to stare when Pansy sweeps through the hallways at Draco Malfoy's side, or when they lounge on one of the sofas in the common room, Pansy's giggles soft and coy as he plays with her hair. Millicent doesn't look, but she sees it anyway, again and again as the images pass through her mind when she lies alone in her bed, sleepless.

But still Pansy comes to her, as if nothing had happened, and when Millicent realises that she doesn't do if for charity - for since when has Pansy ever been charitable, anyway? - a silent, stony triumph fills her, and it stays with her, carrying her through the days.

 

*

 

After Dumbledore's death, several things change at Hogwarts: surveillance becomes heavier, punishment becomes more severe. Still, a Slytherin knows how to make the best of things, and while the other houses are doubtlessly paying for several years of favouritism, their house is let easily off the hook.

Pansy hasn't changed; or if she has, Millicent herself has changed, and therefore doesn't notice it. They sneak around like they always have, in cupboards and deserted classrooms, and when they fuck, it's as passionate and hard and good as it always has been.

 

*

 

This night, they have barely shut and sealed the door to the deserted classroom before Pansy turns to her, saying, "I want you to get undressed."

Millicent blinks. "What?"

"What I said. Get undressed." The gaze is dark and cool, but there is something else there too, something unreadable. "I have never seen you naked."

This is true, Millicent realises. During all their secret meetings, she has never been fully unclothed, or it has been too dark to see anything, or both. In comparison, she has seen everything of Pansy's body by now, she knows it with her eyes as well as with her hands. Pansy's body is all smooth, white skin and slender limbs, so beautiful that only thinking of it makes Millicent ache with longing and desire and envy.

And, she realises, she wants it to stay that way. She will not be subjected to Pansy's contempt, not during these few moments when she, for once, feels powerful and alive.

So Millicent crosses her arms, saying, "No."

"Don't be an idiot," Pansy says impatiently. "I want to see you naked."

"What for?"

Pansy rolls her eyes. "I just want to." Her voice grows softer, slyer. "You're not _shy_ , are you? Because that would be downright stupid, considering everything we've done by now."

Millicent considers it. She can refuse, of course, an option which she is not disinclined to. But then Pansy will get mad, and leave, maybe without coming back - maybe she's decided that she needs Millicent to be humiliated, that it's the only way she can justify what she herself is doing...

Millicent can refuse, and perhaps she ought to. Instead, she raises her hands to her buttons, and starts undoing them, one by one, staring into Pansy's eyes as defiantly as she can.

Pansy doesn't laugh. Her eyes follow Millicent's every movement, her face unreadable. As Millicent drops the robes to the floor and steps out of them, Pansy says, "The underwear too."

Millicent's underwear is not very fancy: a sports bra and old cotton knickers, nothing like the expensive garments of silk that Pansy is normally wearing. Furious with herself for blushing, Millicent removes the last pieces of clothing. Then she stands there, big and ugly and uncomfortable, waiting for the mockery to come.

Pansy still doesn't laugh. She steps closer, scrutinising Millicent's body as if it is an incredibly interesting riddle. She comes so close that Millicent can smell her, and she does, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths of Pansy's scent as Pansy takes her by the shoulder, and...

Kisses her throat.

Millicent keeps her eyes shut, because although she has no idea what is happening, she doesn't want it to end - it has never been anything like this before, not so gentle, not so sensual. Pansy continues, lifting one heavy breast and circling her thumb over the nipple, before doing the same to the other one; and Millicent does look down, then, for she may be coarse and unattractive, but her breasts are large and soft, and the sight of Pansy nuzzling into them sends a pang down her spine, all the way between her legs.

Pansy drops to the floor, placing a hand on each of Millicent's knees, prying them apart; then placing a kiss on the inside of each of the thick knees. Millicent is wet already, she can feel it herself, that she is wet and hot and slick, aching for Pansy's touch. She fumbles behind her, seeking support, bracing her hands against a desk which stands conveniently behind her. Pansy smirks, and buries her head between Millicent's thighs.

It's fantastic. It's never been this good before, it can't have, and Millicent is vaguely aware that she is grunting and babbling and making all sorts of crazy noises as Pansy's tongue prods, circles, licks, teeth nibbling and lips soothing at the same time. It's incredible, and it doesn't end, it goes on and on and then Pansy's hands are on her hips, warm and steady, giving a reassuring squeeze, and Millicent comes, in spastic explosions, jerking and swearing and crying all at once, because it's so fucking fantastic, and because Pansy doesn't let go.

When it's over, she's lying on the floor, gradually finding back to her senses. Pansy is standing over her, a curious look on her features - not aroused, not quite, and not exactly distanced, either.

Millicent licks her lips. "Don't you want - "

"I don't have the time," Pansy says, and her voice sounds indifferent, but there is a strange quiver in it. "I'm supposed to meet Draco."

And Millicent's stomach is cold again, and there's nothing she can do about it, other than saying, stupidly, "But... Why did you come here, then?" She makes a feeble gesture towards her naked body, feeling ill at ease once more. "Why _this?_ "

"Well." Pansy looks away. "I just wanted to see you, to know…" She turns her gaze back to Millicent, and this time, there is stern determination in it. "This is the last time."

Millicent has been waiting for those words, dreading them, expecting them; a small part of her is almost relieved. Almost.

She scrambles to her feet, looking around for her clothes. There is only one thought in her mind: she must get away before Pansy does. She doesn't want Pansy to walk away from her, doesn't want to...

But Pansy is already at the door.

She turns back, the strange expression still on her face. Right now, there is nothing of the old Pansy in it, the Pansy that would have laughed at Millicent's feeble attempts to cover herself, at her crude body, everything. "You know," she says, "You were actually rather good."

Then, with a hushed laughter as she turns to leave, "But everybody always thought you were a lesbian, anyway."


End file.
